Seasons
by WriterKos
Summary: What do you see when you look at me? How the team is seen through the eyes of a profiler. Fic 12 in the Joy Buchanan series. Complete!
1. Spring McGee

_Title: Seasons_  
_Author: WriterKos _  
_Rating: FR18_  
_Parings: Tim/Joy, plus Team Gibbs._  
_Characters: McGee/OC_  
_Genres: Character Study, sex_  
_Warnings: sex_  
_Summary: What do you see when you look at me? How the team is seen through the eyes of a profiler. Fic 12 in the Joy Buchanan series._

_a/n: Thanks for the wonderful LadyTwila for her wonderful work in beta reading this._

**Chapter 1: Spring - McGee**

_Love is an act of endless forgiveness, a tender look which becomes a habit. __**Peter Ustinov **_

The early morning light filters through the gaps of the curtains in the bedroom, shining softly over the bed. There, lovers move slowly against each other in a rhythm as old as time. Words weren't needed. They know each other's defects and scars and are not bothered by the imperfections which mar their skins and souls.

The bruises from their last battle are still visible and tender to the touch, yet their need to reconnect lead them to ignore doctor's orders and start a slow dance in the early Saturday morning.

Joy moans loudly when Tim bites her ear. He soon starts to leave kisses all over her earlobe. She can feel his smile against her skin as he devotes himself to leaving his mark of ownership on her skin. At the same time, another part of him tries to make an even more enduring impression on her body.

He moves one of his hands that until then, was softly massaging the fleshy mounds of her breasts, to slide it down to where his body meets hers. He used his fingers to softly roll the delicate button, bringing a gasp to her breath and a twitching that he felt in the soft warm cavern in which he dwelled.

He presses more into her and is rewarded with rhythmic pulses that make him grimace. He begins to recite the periodic table in an effort to hold off the climax he feels building up deep inside him.

Joy moans loudly as she succumbs to the orgasm that finally takes her. Tim manages a few more thrusts before his final dive deep inside her releases him; his eyes closing with the intense pleasure he feels coursing throughout his body.

His body goes limp on hers. His brain turns into mush. Moments later, he feels her trying to move his bigger frame. Finally able to support his upper body on his shaking arms, he gives her some breathing space.

They kiss softly, mindful of his still tender nose and move apart, trying to catch their breath. He lays back on the pillows and studies this woman who had entered his life on a Saturday night not long ago. In a short span of time, she had become as important to him as the very air he breathes.

She stretches like a cat, trying to get the kinks out of her back under Tim's watchful gaze. She languidly lies by his side with her head on his shoulder, sliding her hand to caress his heaving chest.

Her soft fingers glide over bruises still dark from his encounter with his father's thugs. His cracked rib has healed well, nothing more than a nuisance now. His nose, after some visits to the doctor and under the tender touch of Ducky's medical expertise, has finally gone back to its normal size, only a faint bruise still visible of the break.

NCIS NCIS NCIS NCIS

While McGee had gone back to desk duty the previous week, Joy was still on unpaid leave for one more. She had visited the mandatory shrinks as ordered by Vance and was still waiting for his final decision on her status as field agent.

The investigation on the shootings, thanks to Hope's careful gathering of evidence, proved that in all cases both the FBI and NCIS agents had acted purely on their instinct for survival. All wounds and bruises were carefully documented and shown as evidence of the battle that they had engaged that night.

During the hearings, the most heartbreaking video she showed to the Board was the one filmed in McGee's small apartment. The angle of the cameras showed perfectly McGee's anguished face as the head thug shot his dog and his vain struggles against his torturers when they dragged Sarah to his bedroom.

It also recorded the brutal attack inflicted on him and the rape he escaped. They saw Joy arriving at the very last moment shooting the attackers and how they had then, simply crumbled into each others arms.

Due to the violence on the video, she showed it only to Vance, Gibbs and two other senior agents who were on the Internal Affairs Board. As she played it, Hope noticed how Gibbs first paled, then a blush started to bloom on his neck moving up to his face, his eyes turning like cold blue stones. He slowly started to open and close his hands into fists as he tried to control his fury. She knew how close to insubordination he had been the night Kieran was arrested, as he later commented to Joy that he had gone to the reception fully intending to introduce Kieran's face to a close encounter with his fist.

Gibbs had insisted to know the destiny of the arrested Commander, but both Maggie and Joseph Buchanan refused to reveal what they knew. They simply told him, that since the Commander had tried to mess with things that were not his business, he would be judged and tried by the ones responsible for the project. Further, Gibbs could rest assured that General O'Neill had a very fitting punishment to this man who dared hurt their children.

Sarah, after two weeks with the Buchanan parents hovering over her, claimed her independence again and moved out of the townhouse back to her Waverly dorm. She had blossomed during the time she stayed under the Buchanans' wing but had decided to go back to pursue her degree. She also wanted to be part of the student support group created for the survivors who were there in that fatidic morning.

Matthew had to report back to duty and kept in touch constantly either by satellite phone or by email and skype. He and Sarah had apparently reached an agreement on where they were and where they wanted to go with their relationship.

That left McGee and Joy with two beloved - but extremely nosy - parents sharing the same roof. Of course, chaos would follow anywhere.

NCIS NCIS NCIS NCIS

"What are your plans for today?"

"I'm going out with my dad today. He asked me to go with him to the Library of Congress to look for some type of old ratty sheet music from 1800s."

Oh. He was planning on a relaxing Saturday, just the two of them, but he could understand her devotion to her family. He was equally devoted to his.

"What time will you be back to the townhouse?"

"I have to do some laundry so I'll be back before six." She leaves a kiss on his chest and rises from the bed. "I'm running out of clean underwear," she says with a smile thrown over her shoulder to him. Picking up her clothes from the floor, she goes towards the bathroom unashamed of her naked form.

"Do you want something from the shops? I could bring it to you."

"Nahh, I don't need anything. Enjoy your day with your father."

"Ok, I will," she says and closes the bathroom door.

NCIS NCIS NCIS NCIS

After spending hours in the corridors of the Library of Congress, they found the music sheet her father so much wanted. He exalted the complexity and the arrangement of it while Joy simply smiled at his enthusiastic ways.

They go to a shopping center and sit down for a bite. Her father smirks and takes a small travelling chess set from his shopping bag.

"Wanna have a match, just the two of us?"

Joy smiles at her father. They used to play for hours when she was recovering from her kidnappings and during her several hospitals stays.

Joseph is quite good, but she is better. Today however, she is very distracted and when he is able to capture her queen for the second time, Joseph decides to ask what is bothering his child.

"Penny for your thoughts," He offered.

"Uhm?"

"What put that smile on your face?" he studies her and as always, is surprised at her quiet strength while facing adversities. Right now, her career future was in the hands of a Board at NCIS, and yet here she was, calmly playing chess with him. There was even a small smile on her face.

"Uhm?"

"Why are you smiling?"

"Smiling? I'm not smiling."

"Yes, you are."

"I'm happy today. Is that a crime?"

"No, not a crime. Just wondering the reason why."

She smiles at him again and starts reordering the pieces on the board for a rematch.

"And what about Tim? How are things coming along?" he asks having no qualms about being too indiscreet.

"We're fine." She smiles a satisfied smile that doesn't go unnoticed by her father. He sighs loudly and she keeps reordering the pieces distractedly.

"That good, uhm?" She smiles shyly, but doesn't answer.

"You might think I am a very conservative old man, but I ask because I care."

He takes one of her hands in his and squeezes, "I know you girls might not follow my beliefs or moral values; and I have no illusions that you two are living a chaste life, but I don't have to be a beekeeper to know that someone has been taking dips in the honeypot."

She blushes brightly.

"It was never only about sex between us, Dad."

"I just don't want to see you hurt. I have never seen you so invested in a relationship before." He leans back in the chair and tries to find a comfortable position and simply gives up. "You always were very careful about who would get close to you and since you met Tim, it's like you've blossomed and integrated him into every part of your life. I really like him. He has again and again proved his character, but I worry. That's my job."

"I know, Dad. But this is different."

"How?"

Joy sighs and takes the queen in her hand, her fingers slowly tracing the contours of the carved piece, observing the expertise needed to create it.

"Other men in my life, whenever they saw my scars they were either outraged, angry or disgusted by them. After one or two encounters I couldn't stand the way they would look at me anymore," she says, remembering the bittersweet moments she had with other men in her life.

"It always took a lot of courage and time until we finally get to the point of" she looks up and her father still listening to her attentively "becoming intimate and when that happened, they couldn't … they wouldn't …" she struggles to find the words.

Her father stretches his hand and takes the queen from her, setting it back on the board. He takes his daughter's hand in his and squeezes, silently giving the strength she needs to continue.

"With McGee, it is different. From the very beginning when he looks at me, when he looks" she pauses, "at my scars, he doesn't see them as something ugly, as something to be pitied and commented on."

"It is almost like… he considers them badges of honor."

Her father acts in mock indignation.

"But they are badges of honor. They prove that you were refined by the hottest fires, your soul endured the hardest tests man could submit to man, and yet you rose up, unblemished, like a phoenix."

Joy smiled at her father's words, caressing his hand with her thumb in an unconscious, tender move.

"Not unblemished, Dad. I still have the marks."

Her father will not accept her diminishing the values of her life experiences.

"But they are there like a living memorial of what you have been through. They represent who you are."

She looks at her father silently, opens her mouth to say something but reconsiders. Joseph frowns.

"You know you can tell me anything."

She keeps looking at him.

"I felt _it_ again."

"What?" he asks confused.

_"It."_ She says with emphasis. Her father falls silent, continuing to frown as he considers the repercussions of her revelation.

"We thought that, for some reason, I had lost my gift -"

"More like a curse," he mutters, interrupting her.

She ignores him. "Maybe that was why after I grew up, I never felt anything again."

She pauses and squeezes her father's hand. She leans towards him and lowers her voice just for his ears, "But when I met him, I felt the most amazing scent of flowers and something I can't really describe. It was as if I just walked into a field full of flowers in full bloom. It filled my soul with enchantment and revealed something pure and" she looks down at her hands, which are gripping her father's hands "innocent."

She lifts her eyes and looks at her father's face. Joseph sees how emotional Joy is as tears slowly gather in her eyes.

"I haven't felt something like that since the day I met you, when I followed you at the Grand Station and stole your wallet."

He smiles. "It was the best investment of my whole life."

She smiles and looks at their joined hands. "It was the best decision of my life."

He nods. He then starts to recite by heart the words of the Love Chapter in the Bible:  
_  
"If I speak in tongues of men and of angels, but have not love,  
I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal.  
If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge,  
And if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing.  
If I give all I posses to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love,  
I gain nothing.  
Love is patient, love is kind.  
It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.  
It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered,  
It keeps no records of wrongs.  
Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.  
It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, and always perseveres.  
Love never fails."  
_

A comfortable silence followed his words.

"I've always loved that chapter of Corinthians," she softly says, smiling at her father.

"What's not to love?"


	2. Winter  Gibbs

_**a/n: This story is a series of snapshots on the Joy Buchanan Universe. This chapter in particular deals on a very painful aspect, and I've tried to be as candid as possible on the reactions of those involved. Pain and suffering become unbearable when it is mixed with misunderstandings, but it becomes bearable when, despite the series of unfortunate events that happen in our lives, if we learn to live on hope. **_

**_Without hope, there is no life. _**

_**

* * *

**_

_**Winter - Gibbs**_

_**There is beauty in winter. You just have to know where to look to find it. - Buchanan to Gibbs**_

The cold bitter wind was restlessly attacking the agents standing at the crime scene. Tony was rubbing his arms up and down, trying in vain to bring a little warmth to his almost frozen limbs.

"Why did we have to be the on-duty team this weekend?" he whines, shuffling his feet in the snow.

"Have you forgotten to wear your thermal underwear again, Tony?" Ziva asked, snickering.

"Don't gloat, it's not nice," Tony groused, his teeth chattering in the cold.

"You cold, DiNozzo?" McGee asks from where he's taking shots of the deceased petty officer.

"It's freezing out here, McGenius. What do you think?"

"Maybe you should have watched Weather Channel before leaving your place today," says Joy, without looking up from the notebook she is using to sketch the scene. "You would know that we're scheduled to have the Big Freeze of the season, starting today."

"Big Freeze?" Ziva looks confused at her teammate.

"Yep…biggest snow storm of the season. Comes when the northern artic air fronts combine with winds reaching fifty miles per hour. They're expecting at least ten inches of snow in the next twenty four hours," McGee said, taking another picture of the crime scene.

Gibbs helps Ducky up the hill, his hand supporting him whenever Ducky missteps in the fluffy snow.

"Thank you, Jethro."

Gibbs just smirks and nods to his agents, "What have you got?"

His agents rush to give him an update and McGee goes first. "Petty Officer Thomas Muller, 25, arrived in Norfolk with the USS Intrepid just three days ago. No known family. He grew up in foster homes until he graduated from high school, when he joined the Navy."

Tony points to a man with a Labrador at his feet, a couple of feet away. "Muller's body was found by a runner with his dog. The dog picked the scent of blood, ran off the trail, guiding the man to our dead petty officer."

"It snowed heavily over the last couple of hours and the body was hidden under a ratty blanket behind this bush," says Ziva, pointing to the naked branches of a small shrub.

"Since it was covered with snow, the dog tried to dig it out. The runner initially believed it was a dead animal, but when he saw his dog with a human hand in its mouth, he called Metro."

"Did he touch the body?" Ducky asked, looking at the state of the dead man in his snowy grave.

"Just to check his pulse. When he verified Muller was already dead, he took his mobile phone and reported the body. Any disturbance of the body was made by his overly enthusiastic dog, Clipper, who tried to dig the body out from under the snow," says Joy, looking at her notes.

She looks up at Gibbs, "We already took samples from the witness and his dog and we have his address and contact information. Can we let him go?"

Gibbs looks around the scene and at the man shivering in the wind, "Yeah, tell him not to leave town."

Joy leaves to talk with their witness, who had been shivering for hours in the cold. Gibbs, for a moment, stares at his profiler's back. Since her return to duty a couple of months ago, Gibbs noticed she had been very careful in her interaction with others. She seemed to be a little sensitive about things around her.

Gibbs shrugs and turns to the M.E. who is studying the body, "What can you tell me, Duck?"

NCIS NCIS NCIS NCIS

They return to the bullpen, enjoying the heated air of the building. Further investigation yields a hotel room booked in Muller's name. Ziva and Tony leave to collect any evidence and interview the hotel Manager. Joy and McGee start working up a profile, doing searches on his life, trying to find patterns.

Gibbs moves his hand to his coffee cup and when he lifts the cup to drink, he notices it's empty. He leaves to get more. When he returns with his traditional black in his cup and some already running on his veins, he finds his profiler standing by the window, staring at the snow falling outside. She has a lost look on her face and a hot cup of something in her hand.

He approaches her and she smiles at him, "I needed a hot tea just to warm up."

Gibbs looks back to the bullpen. McGee is nowhere to be seen. Glancing back at Joy, she answers his silent question. "He's down with Abby, reviewing some computer forensics way too advanced for me to follow. Once they can speak in a language I understand, they'll come up to share their findings."

"Tony and Ziva?"

"Not back yet."

Gibbs smirks and takes a sip of his coffee. Joy sips her tea and glances at him.

"What are you thinking?"

Gibbs shrugs.

"Nothing important. You?"

She looks through the window to the snowflakes silently falling down. "I love winter. I hate the cold, but I love snow and everything related to it. There were winters back in Montana that we stayed snowed in. Dad would gather all of us before the fireplace, get his guitar and teach some new songs he had researched for the church choir. We would stay huddled under blankets, with cocoa cups in our hands, singing until we simply started dropping off to sleep, exhausted. He would leave us sleeping piled up one over the other and mom would be mad at him the following morning."

She laughs remembering those nights in Montana and leans against the window, looking at Gibbs. "Mom would shriek at him: _'Why didn't you take them to bed? They'll catch a chill!'_ and he would answer, _'You're welcome to try to move six sleepy children upstairs. My knees won't take it_.'"

"He told me about his leg, how it permanently put him on the ground, never to fly again."

Joy nods silently, her eyes with a lost expression. Gibbs senses that she's introspective again.

"Anything on your mind?"

"Hmm?" she blinks and looks at him again, not having heard his last question.

"Anything bothering you? You've been… distant lately." He studies her face as she carefully tries to hide her thoughts, not meeting his eyes. She has a good poker face most of the time, but her eyes always reveal what she's thinking.

"Nothing important. I always get introspective at this of the year: review my choices, my path in life and consider possible outcomes for the next year." She bites her lip in an unconscious gesture that she always does whenever she wants to say something but has no idea how.

Gibbs mimics her position and leans against the window, silently signaling he wants to hear more.

"It's an anniversary of sorts, too." She says softly, looking at him with troubled eyes. "Seven years ago last Monday, I had surgery due to my endometriosis. Once I got out of the OR, they told me they did what they could, but I would never have children of my own."

"You never know how much you want something until someone tells you that you won't ever have it. Then, children were such an abstract prospect to me, with my dangerous job and total lack of love life."

Gibbs can hear the pain in her voice. His two agents had been together for almost three years now and he could see how devoted they were to each other. He also knew how it pained Joy not being able to offer a family to McGee. He remembered the small talk they had in Norfolk. Gibbs had kept his promise by not telling her parents the secret she had trusted him with, but he also saw how Maggie was not even discreet in her questions about when the two young lovers would finally give her a grandchild.

McGee and Buchanan would politely smile and say nothing.

"You have to tell them sometime, you know." Gibbs remembers how Joseph is with Priscilla and how he indirectly hinted that he expected a green eyed grandchild soon.

"I know," she winces, turning once again to stare at the silently falling snow. "But you know my dad. He'll be so hurt because I hid it from him."

"One way or the other, he will figure it out. It'll be better if he learns it from you than from somebody else."

Gibbs leaves her by the windows moving back to his desk. He sits and starts going through the papers on his desk. After a few moments, Joy comes to his desk, deep in thought.

"Have you ever…" she shakes her head and stops. "Forget it. It's not important."

"No…your started it…just say it." He folds his arms and leans back on his chair, studying his fidgeting profiler.

She leans her head to the right, studying him for a moment. He stares right back at her, as he knows that, whenever she's ready to say what's on her mind, she will.

Finally… "Have you ever wished you made different choices in your life? Or that you had another chance to make it right?"

He thinks about his life. His father, Shannon, Kelly, his ex-wives. The agents that had come and gone under his command. The ones who had stayed.

He sighs and sits straighter in his chair, "I'm all open for other chances. Hell, I've been divorced three times."

Joy laughs and looks away. "Winters for me, maybe even more than summers or spring, represent a new beginning. It's when nature goes to sleep for a while, preparing for a new spring yet to come. Even though you know all the seeds planted might not germinate in the following spring, the promise is still there. And that's what gives us hope in our darkest hours."

She smiles softly, "Don't ever give up trying, Boss. Your spring will come. It just might not have the flowers you planted before, and some different types of weeds might appear that you were not expecting, but it will come."

Gibbs studies his profiler, who is now playing with her stress Guinness pint squeezing it in her hand, "besides, there's beauty in winter. You just have to know where to look to find it." She smiles at him, a big bright smile and he can't help but return it to her.

At that moment McGee and Abby come up to the bullpen, "Boss, we found something."

Joy looks at them and Gibbs stands up, "What have you got, Abs?"


	3. Summer Abby

a/n: After a long hiatus, I'm glad to go back to the Buchanan stories. Please enjoy this next chapter of their saga. It is short and fluffy and dealing with a sad aspect of endometriosis, but only a prelude to what's to come.

Many adventures are still to come.

* * *

_**Summer – Abby**_

__Ziva was giving the last touches on her report of their latest case when she feels someone standing in front of her desk. She looks up and sees Joy and Abby smiling like maniacs down at her.

"What are you two up to?"

Joy looks at Abby and opens a paper. She clears her throat and says in a pompous voice, "Miss David, you are cordially invited to a night of mayhem, laughter and men-bashing in the Buchanans' townhouse tonight, starting at eight o'clock. Food, booze and entertainment will be freely provided. Your attendance is mandatory. Beds will be provided to those too incapacitated to drive."

Ziva laughs at the silly invite. She can see Abby is almost bursting with energy.

"What's this?"

"Please, Ziva, you will come, won't you?" asks Abby.

"Depends. I still have to finish my reports. What's this about?"

Joy leans over Ziva's desk, "It's the seasonal Buchanan clan meeting. We girls get together for the fun of it; update the others in our love life, or lack of it, and just laugh. We leave the stress of our jobs behind and just plain gossip. Toe painting and hair styling might happen, depending on the girl's humor. Hope insisted that I invite you two."

"Oohhhh, a girls night out. Are you going to be talking about me? Can I go?" DiNozzo leers at the women. He overheard them talking about their plans.

"You wish,"Joy rolls her eyes at him.

Abby laughs and hugs Tony. "Sorry Tony. You've got the wrong equipment for this party. Only women allowed."

"That's discrimination."

"No, that's self preservation. And talking about self preservation…" Joy turns to McGee who has just returned to his desk, Gibbs right after him. "…you'll need to sleep in your apartment tonight. The hordes will be invading and I don't want you caught in the backlash."

He frowns at that. "But I love your sisters. I don't mind that they drop by."

Joy smiles at him and shakes her head. "I don't think you've really caught on with what's happening tonight. My sisters will be drunk, horny and badmouthing men for hours. And you have a penis. My sisters, drunk and horny. Have I mentioned that you have a penis?"

McGee stares at Joy with huge eyes, his mind trying to picture the scene of horny, drunk and angry Buchanans running after him in the corridors of the townhouse. After some thinking, "I'll sleep at my place tonight."

"Good," she taps his cheek lightly, "I knew you would see my point. I'm just trying to protect your chastity."

Gibbs smirks at the interplay between his agents and Abby laughs, delighted. "Are we going to have music? Can I bring my music? I have to separate my CD's. I have some new ones of punk rock that I promised to burn for Temp."

She hurries off, excited with the prospect of sharing her music knowledge with another music lover like Temp.

Joy shakes her head. "Thank God I live in a house and not an apartment. My nearest neighbor is as deaf as a doornail."

"May God have mercy of your ears," Tony intoned, imagining the type of music Abby will bring to the Buchanan home.

"Amen." McGee answered.

NCIS NCIS NCIS NCIS

The music is pouring in full blast out of the windows of the Buchanan's townhouse when a small airport taxi stops before the imposing house. A tall blonde in a deep indigo blue jacket leaves the car, pays the bill and gladly receives her small travelling suitcase from the hand of the taxi driver. She turns her back to the departing cab and stares at the door of the house.

Taking the handle of her rolling travel bag, shedrags it slowly the door of the townhouse and rings the bell repeatedly, hoping to be heard over the sound of music and laughter that is floating out of the house.

The door is opened by a pixie faced girl, her pale face framed by brown curls, her bright violet eyes becoming huge when she recognizes who is at the door.

"Grace?" Temp shrieks and hugs her sister, Grace Buchanan, who lives in Utah, "GRACE!"

Grace hugs her littlest sister tight, Temp's shrieks giving her an earful, but she simply smiles at her enthusiasm.

"I was just driving by and decided to check on Joy, you guys seem to be having a party without me."

She looks up from Temp's face to look at Hope, Faith, Joy and three other women she doesn't recognize immediately.

"Hey sister," says Hope to her blood sister, "welcome home."

The two blondes hug each other, while Temp grabs the suitcase and takes it upstairs to one of the guest rooms.

NCIS NCIS NCIS NCIS

Fresh juice is poured in glasses; wine is offered, sometimes accepted, sometimes refused. Bowls with fresh cuts of several fruits are all over the table, along with nuts and some small finger food bits that the women are attacking voraciously.

Sarah, Abby and Temp are all sitting on the floor around the stereo, comparing their CD's collections, blasting their ears each five minutes with the favorite songs of one girl, then the other.

Faith is talking with Ziva, both sitting comfortably on the sofa. She has strangelyfound a soul sister in Joy's oldest sibling, who has to works as a department head in the FBI. Ziva throws her head back, laughing at something Faith says to her. Joy smiles from her position by the table as she sees Hope and Grace with their heads close to each other, talking softly, just like they used to do when they were kids.

In the Buchanan's household, despite the fact the adopted kids were treated exactly the same as the flesh and blood kids were they were expected to respect and care for the others as well. Hope and Grace however, always had a special way to communicate. Both were blood siblings who were thrust into a difficult situation when their parents died in a car crash. They were adopted into a noisy household so different from the one full of rules their house had been. Shortly after they moved in, the Buchanan's took the guardianship of Joy from the state and then adopted her as well.

Things were bound to be problematic for a while.

Hope resented Joy's presence deeply and did nothing to hide her distaste for the mute street kid the family had adopted. Grace, as the oldest sibling, just incited Hope to even bitter rivalries. Having to share her room with the strange kid, didn't help.

But things smoothed out after their kidnapping, when Joy willingly sacrificed herself to be tortured in Hope's place. Grace, forced to face the facts, silently accepted the strange kid and slowly mellowed with the years. Now they shared an amicable relationship, not close, but quite better than before.

Joy takes a sip on her red wine and smiles when Hope squeals happily and jumps into Grace's arms, hugging her tightly. Both women stand up and walk to the middle of the living room. Grace takes a glass of wine and hits it softly with a spoon, calling everyone's attention to herself.

"Ladies of the Clan Buchanan, and honorary ladies of the clan," Sarah, Ziva and Abby snicker and sit closer on the sofa, "I have news to partake with you, before anyone else in the family."

"Cut the crap and go straight to the point, Grace," says Joy smiling, walking up to the fireplace and putting more wood in it.

The girls roar with laughter and Hope nods, holding her middle from laughing so much.

"Come on, tell them!" she says, looking up adoringly to her oldest sister.

Grace shakes her head and with a beautiful smile on her face, "I have been dating for the last couple of months a Detective from Utah Metropolitan force." A series of catcalls is heard, along with shouted questions about how gorgeous and good in bed he was.

Grace blushes and laughs, but doesn't answer the questions.

"We went on a date last week and he proposed."

"No way."

"Way."

"So what, what did you answer?"

"I said yes."

Squeals and screams of joy could be heard, but Grace waves her hands energetically trying to calm down the hysterical women, as she is not finished yet.

"Oh my God, there's more?" squeals Temp, who is sitting on the floor by Abby, squeezing her hand nervously.

"Yes."

"Come on, stop torturing us!" shouts Joy.

Grace looks around, glancing at her beloved sisters, the friends they had brought into their family-close circle, then at Joy who is standing by the fireplace.

"I'm pregnant," she says in a quivering voice and the room erupts in cheer, with one single exception.

NCIS NCIS NCIS NCIS

Joy brings the empty trays into the kitchen and clears the leftovers into the trash. She mechanically places the machine washable trays into the dishwasher and disposes of the paper ones into the trash. She throws the contents of the half drunken glasses into the sink and puts all glasses in the dishwasher, being careful to ensure that the delicate wine glasses don't break during the cycle.

She closes the dishwasher door with a thud and supports her hands on the corner of the kitchen top, closing her eyes and breathing deeply. She refuses to cry and spoil the happy moment of her sister.

The sound of laughter and more toasts being shouted can be heard and Joy takes a minute to calm the turmoil boiling up like lava in her soul.

"Hey, Joy, do you have more of this hinky biscuit? It's delicious!" says Abby entering the kitchen. She freezes as she sees Joy turn her back to her, pointing vaguely to the boxes filled with pastries over the kitchen counter.

"The chocolate puffs are in the third box, and the guava filled ones are in the first," Joy answers in a quivering voice. "The other two are with the cream filled ones, just take your pick."

She sniffles and taking a clean dish cloth from a drawer, starts wiping some cutlery to bring back to the living room.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong."

"If nothing is wrong," Abby closes the kitchen door and walks up to Joy, who turns around in order to keep her back to Abby, "why are you hiding in your kitchen crying, while people are having a party in your own house?"

"I'm not…" Joy sniffles again, wiping her face. She turns to stare at Abby, "I'm not crying."

Abby stares at her for a minute.

"Sure, you're not. You're just leaking something out of your eyes."

Joy snickers at Abby, who smiles at her, "Come on, what's wrong?"

"It's petty and wrong of me. It's silly, forget about it."

Joy twists the dishcloth in her hand nervously, almost strangling the cloth.

"It's not petty if reduces you to tears. It takes a lot to rattle you. So spill it. I'm not leaving until you do." Abby folds her arms and stares at Joy in a vain attempt to imitate Gibbs' glare.

Joy smiles at Abby, and then looks at the closed door that leads to the living room, trying to sort out her feelings. She glances at Abby and sighs, tiredly.

"She's pregnant."

Abby frowns at Joy's statement, which culminates with a single tear escaping from her eyes which Joy promptly wipes away.

"And you are sad about it."

"I'm not sad." Joy rolls her head to the side, feeling the muscles complain of the tension in them. "I'm envious."

Abby stares at Joy for a second, and then opens a big smile, "but all you do to is talk to Tim. He loves you, and he adores kids, and I'm sure that—"

"Abby," Joy tries to put a word in the edgewise, but Abby is on the roll.

"He would be ecstatic if you told him that you're biological clock is ticking, or something similar, and then I'm sure—"

"Abby," Joy tries again.

"And can you imagine? Little McGee-Buchanans running around the bullpen! These kids would be adorable, and so smart and bright and –"

"I CAN'T!" hisses Joy, finally shutting Abby up. Abby stops her ramblings and stares at Joy who is struggling to keep her tears at bay, "I can't have children. I was told years ago."

Abby stays in shocked silence for a few minutes, just watching Joy struggling to keep her misery hidden from view from her family.

"Does McGee know?"

A silent nod.

"Do they?" she points vaguely to the closed door, where the squeals of happiness can still be heard, and where the Buchanan clan is celebrating a new addition to their ranks.

"They know about the endometriosis but they have no idea how serious my condition really is. And I would appreciate if you don't tell them," whispers Joy, her eyes filled with tears staring into Abby's, silently begging her to keep her secret.

"Ah Joy, can I give you hug?"

Joy smiles and opens her arms, and the Goth simply wraps her arms around Joy and squeezes her firmly in an Abby hug. Joy sniffs and can't hold back her sobs. Abby closes her eyes, rubbing her hand up and down Joy's back while she cries about the dream which will never become reality.

"Shush… you could always adopt."

Joy laughs lightly and takes a step back out of Abby's arms. Abby stares into her face and there's some color back into it; the sadness from before is not present anymore.

"Thanks Abby," she rubs a hand on Abby's arm in a show of appreciation, "I really needed a hug."

"That's why I'm here. Whenever you need an Abby hug, just ask."

Joy laughs again and stares at Abby for a few moments, which ends up leaving her uncomfortable.

"What?"

"That's why Gibbs keeps you around, you know?"

"What are you talking about?"

Joy nods silently at something going on in her head, and then turns smiling to Abby. "In our line of work, we need something, or someone, who constantly reminds us why we do what we do; the reasons we're fighting for."

"I still don't get it."

Joy smiles and walks up to the counter, getting another paper tray and starting to organize pastries on it to bring to the living room.

"You are like a summer breeze blasting after a long cold winter. You revive the land and order everything around you to seize the day. While the light is still out, you remind us that life is there to be lived and enjoyed in its fullness."

Joy takes a chocolate pastry and bites it, smiling as some of the rich filling leaks on her chin.

"And you are Gibbs' reason to keep doing what he does. At least, one of them."

She wipes it with her finger and sucks the rich mix with a smile.

"You really think that?"

Joy nods and points to the pastries boxes.

"I know it. Seize the day, girl, we'll diet tomorrow."

Abby takes a cream filled pastry, glances Joy and bites it, moaning at the divine taste.

"Who cares about dieting, can I have another one?"


	4. Autumn  DiNozzo

_**Chapter 4: Autumn - DiNozzo**_

Your mind is like Central Park in New York during autumn. It is the place to be, to see the color of the season. - Buchanan to DiNozzo

DiNozzo could feel eyes burning on the back of his head. Again. He turns around and glares at the brown eyes staring fixedly at him.

"Stop profiling me, Buchanan!" he growls, irritated.

Buchanan blinks, smiles politely and turns back to the report she is reading, sitting beside McGee in the bullpen. The last week had been very calm, no new cases, so Gibbs had them going through cold cases and reviewing them to see if they could pick something they might have missed.

It was a really boring task and tempers were a little bit frayed around the edges. Ziva was nervously snapping paper clips while Tony read listlessly the old reports. By now he already knew them by heart.

Buchanan and McGee were sitting side byside. He reviewed searches previously done while she read for the first time, old cases from when she hadn't been part of the team. She was doodling on a paper but sometimes she would zone out, staring at something or, in this case, someone.

The afternoon dragged on slowly, with no phone calls to the hotline informing them that someone, anyone, was dead, killed, maimed or kidnapped. Even Gibbs was feeling a little claustrophobic, taking three outings for coffee, two visits to Abby to bring her Caf-Pow and a long visit to Ducky, just to hear him rambling about an old story he had already heard.

Finally, five o'clock rolls in and Gibbs signals that they should close down shop. The agents hurry to finish whatever game, story or website they were looking at on the internet and slowly get ready to leave.

Buchanan smiles for a moment and stares at Tony who is closing his computer game, getting ready to leave. She walks up to his desk and stands before him, before asking something that had been bothering her the whole day.

"Why do you get so mad when you think I might be profiling you?"

Tony fixes his jacket, grabs his gun and his badge from the first drawer and stares at the short agent, who is looking at him with a small smile on her face.

"I don't like the idea of a shrink going around my head, looking around my secrets. So stay out of my mind."

Joy nods, shrugs and goes to collect her purse, nodding to Gibbs on her way to her desk.

"It's a pity, you know. I like your mind."

That freezes Tony, who looks at Joy as if she had sprung a second head.

"You like my mind?"

She glances up at him as she looks for something in her purse.

"Sure, why not?"

Tony keeps staring at her astonished, and even Ziva grabs her backpack and looks at the two agents waiting for the punch-line of a joke that's she's sure it is coming.

"So you do not think that he should be admitted into a tunes bin and left there to rot?"

Joy glances at Ziva, who is throwing a malicious look at Tony, who is looking at her with his best puppy face.

"Not funny. And it's loony bin, Ziva. Loony." He glances then at Buchanan, "Why do you like my mind? Don't you think that I need years of therapy or something like that?"

Joy looks up at Tony, laughs and shakes her head, her curly hair hitting softly her cheeks.

"Tony, in my line of work I've delved into the sickest and scariest minds out there. I've seen horrible things done by monsters to innocents and there was no explanation for their deeds. No excuses. No nothing. Your mind is…" she smiles and scratches her chin, trying to find a definition to what she sees.

Even McGee is standing beside them, waiting to hear what Joy has to say. Finally she seems to find the definition she was looking for.

"Your mind is like Central Park in New York in autumn. It is the place to be, to see the color of the season."

"Central Park?" McGee looks from Buchanan to Tony, who is looking at Buchanan confused.

"Really?"

"Yeah. There are plenty of people and laughter and beautiful colors. Of course, once the sun sets it is dangerous to walk in some corners of it, as you might not be safe alone in there, but during a sunny day, walking by the tree lanes... It's pleasant. Colorful."

"You really think that?"

Joy smiles a Mona Lisa like smile, nods and leaves, all the time with Tony's stare burning at her back.


	5. Summer Solstice Ziva

_A/n: a reviewer asked me why Joy simply doesn't come out and tell her parents she can't have children. This is my answer to it. Only someone who once had to carry a burden that she feels she's unable to share anyone she might love is able to understand Joy's terrible fear of opening up to her own parents.  
_

* * *

_**Summer's Solstice - Ziva**_

_"Have you ever had a secret so deeply rooted into your soul that it became part of you?" __**Ziva to Buchanan**_

"Want some?" Joy offers a bottle of water to Ziva, as they had been sweating away on the small surveillance room set up to observe the movements of a suspected home grown terrorist cell in Virginia.

It was midsummer, and the temperatures were soaring above one hundred. They had been taking turns on the surveillance room, one turn the boys would come in, another turn the girls, then one of the boys with Gibbs, then one of the girls with the boys, and so on.

It was a long tedious job of listening people talking mindlessly about mundane things, and sometimes some hidden word that could be interpreted in so many ways.

On that hot day, Joy and Ziva are the ones watching their targets. Both girls, happy that the boys wouldn't come to relieve them for the next ten hours or so, simply stripped down to their skimpiest clothes they could find in their wardrobe.

Both girls donned tight spandex gym shorts and were wearing old ratty t-shirts, which had seen good days probably a couple of years ago before been washed until they were as thin as paper. Maybe more like a decade before.

Joy was wearing an old white Ramones t-shirt she stole from her sister Hope, when she was in a very rebel punk phase. It was autographed by Joey and Johnny Ramone, and Hope had no idea that the t-shirt was in Joy's things, otherwise a wild west standoff would happen between the sisters.

Ziva, as she didn't have Joy's shyness due to scars on her own back, was wearing a simple old yellow t-shirt, with a tight sports bra underneath. Anyone who saw them at that very moment would think they just came out of a very stimulating gym session, as both gorgeous women in gym clothes were dripping sweat.

"I wonder what Tony and McGee are doing right now," mutters Ziva, as she uses a Chinese paper fan to move some hot air to her face, in a desperate attempt to dry the sweat. Of all flats in the building, Gibbs had to choose the one which didn't have a functioning AC.

"Probably they are eating ice cream and basking in the AC of NCIS."

"Uhm…" moans Ziva, "Ice cream."

"Chocolate chips ice cream with a _petit gateau _just hot out of the oven, covered with melted dark chocolate, and cherries. Lots of cherries."

Ziva glances at Joy, who is staring at the surveillance cameras with glazed eyes.

"I hate you, you know."

"Yeah, I do."

Joy gets a small towel she had dipped into cold water and wipes her forehead.

"You should be used to this kind of heat. Israel is much hotter during summer."

"Yes, it is. But it feels different. It is quite humid there. We used to live just by the sea, so at night we would have some breeze coming to freshen up."

Joy nods, "So at least you won't feel like you're standing inside a pressure cooker the whole day."

Ziva snickers, "Oh, it felt like a pressure cooker. We were just used to it because we were born inside of it."

Both women laugh softly, each staring to one of the plasma screens, sitting lazily on their seats and supporting their well manicured feet on the tabletop. They were sitting back to back, their heads side by side, while their feet were on different corners of the same table.

"It must have been difficult."

Ziva takes a gulp of her bottled water, before asking for clarification, "What must have been difficult?"

"Mossad."

Ziva frowns, as she doesn't have the habit of talking of her old days in her homeland, which seemed to be a lifetime ago, and also Joy doesn't have the habit of fishing for information.

"Why do you say that?" Ziva plays with the cap of her water bottle, and waits for the explanation to come. It doesn't take long though.

"Keeping a secret. Every single day of your life. Afraid that one day, you might slip and someone might find out the secret you were trying so hard to hide, and then your life is forfeit, and your country might be in danger for your actions."

Ziva turns on her seat, and stares at Joy's face. There is a very deep frown on her forehead, and she has the same look in her eyes she usually has when she is deep into a profiling session.

"You learn to live with it. You are careful. You measure your words, even your thoughts," Joy turns to look at Ziva, and Ziva senses that, for some reason, they are not talking about Ziva's Mossad days anymore, "so your secret is never revealed."

After a while, Joy nods very slowly, and turns to stare her own plasma screen. Ziva keeps staring at the profiler's profile, and there's a faint cloud of misery around her that is very hard to ignore.

"Have you ever had a secret so deeply rooted into your soul that it became part of you?"

Ziva's question brings Joy's eyes back to the Israeli's face, and both women stare at each other for a long moment. Ziva keeps talking, seeing the play of emotions on the other woman's face.

"At first, it begins as something small. Almost irrelevant. Then it snowballs into a huge thing. And you can not get out of it. Or escape it. You are in too deep. You might even want to. You know you should come out in the open, explain things while you still can, but for some reason you are incapable of saying it. You are afraid of being hurt. You are afraid of hurting others. And in the end, when it finally comes out, it is usually as bad as you imagined it would be."

The tears simmering in Joy's eyes start to fall silently down her face, but she keeps silently staring the Israeli. Ziva stays in silence for a moment, and finally voices what's on her mind.

"We're not talking about me anymore, are we?"

Joy's face crumbles and she sniffles, running a hand over her cheek to wipe her face. Ziva puts a hand on her shoulder and squeezes.

"Whatever it is that it is eating you inside, you have to do something about it."

"A lot of people will get hurt…" Joy says in a quivering voice, "Or at least be disappointed at me." She bites her lower lip, and more tears escape her eyes, "I've been carrying this for so long, for years on my own. I simply don't know how…"

"Then it's time to share the burden," says Ziva in a comforting voice, and squeezes Joy's shoulder again. They take a moment, and Ziva asks, "Does McGee know?"

Joy nods emphatically, "He was one of the first person I've ever shared it. In a long, long time."

"What are you afraid of?"

"My dad," Joy moans, "He will be so disappointed with me," she murmurs in a broken voice after a whole minute considering how much to reveal to the Israeli.

"Ah, Joy." Both women hug, and Joy hides her face in the curve of Ziva's neck, silently crying. "Your father is an amazing man. I am absolutely sure that there is nothing you might do he would not forgive you."

They separate and smile teary at each other, and both women wipe their own faces and stare at their respective screens.

"What are you going to do now?" Ziva asks softly after some minutes in silent contemplation.

"I'm going to explore all possible venues before giving up my dream," Joy fidgets in her chair, until she gets her cell phone from her backpack under the table. She presses number one speed dial, and waits until the other side connects.

"McGee speaking."

"Hey, how are you?"

McGee looks around himself in the bullpen, which is empty right now, before dropping his voice into a lower tone, "Hey, how is the most boring assignment on the face of the earth?"

Joy laughs softly, and says in an equally low voice, "Well, it's just boring because you're not here to see the outfits me and Ziva are wearing right now. In the right angles and with good lightning, we would put the girls from Playboy to shame."

McGee gulps, as his mind conjures images of both agents semi naked in skimpy bikinis.

"Wow."

Ziva snickers and shouts loud enough to be overheard on Joy's call, "Get your mind out of the gutter, McGee, or I will use my paperclips on you."

He immediately sobers up and sits straighter on his chair; despite the fact Ziva can't see him right now.

Joy laughs delighted, "I wish I had your gift to scare them out of their wits, Ziva."

Ziva wiggles her eyebrows, "It takes practice. Lots of practice."

Both women giggle delighted, and McGee can't help his own smile as he hears both women having fun together.

Their mirth softly dims a little, and McGee waits for a while so Joy can keep talking, but she stays in silence in the other side.

"Joy?"

"Yeah."

"You called me, you know. Is there anything you need?"

She cleans her throat, and McGee leans forward on his chair, playing with a mechanic pencil on his hand, waiting for her to speak.

"We need to talk."

"We're talking right now."

Joy grimaces for once glad that he can't see her right now.

"Not, like this. I mean, _talk_, really talk, you know, about stuff."

He feels his eyebrows visiting his hairline.

"Is that a scientific term? Stuff?"

He smiles when he hears her moaning on the other side, "McGee, please. I'm serious."

"Ok, so you want to talk about… _stuff_."

"Yeah."

"Relationship _stuff_."

"Yeah."

He nods, and looks at his computer screen, which is showing his latest running search related to their case.

"Okay, when?"

"Let's finish this case and we will take a night out, have a nice home cooked dinner and sit down to talk. Is it okay for you?"

He nods again and runs a trembling hand over his short blond hair, wondering what possibly she could want to talk about.

"Okay, I'm fine with it."

"Good, I gotta go."

"Okay, then."

Joy softly closes her cell phone, disconnecting the phone call. She looks at Ziva, who nods encouragingly at her. Both women sit back on their chairs, and stare at their own screens, enjoying the heat of the longest day of the year. Meanwhile, McGee stares at his own cell phone, wondering what exactly their conversation might entail.


	6. Winter Solstice Ducky

**_Winter Solstice - Ducky_**

"Death is a fascinating thing," says Ducky, walking towards the corpse lying on the floor of the Rock Creek Park, with his faithful assistant, Jimmy Palmer.

"Why do you say that, Ducky?" McGee asks after taking another picture of the corpse.

"It is an equalizing factor. Old, young, brave, coward, we all die. There is always a moment set somewhere in our future that we must meet our Maker."

He kneels and points to the young petty officer whose probable cause of death was a javelin protruding from his chest.

"Look at this young man here." He studies the javelin, "I can assure you that this morning, when he woke up, he had no idea today was that day."

"_Dust to dust, ashes to ashes_," Buchanan quotes as she stares at the dead petty officer.

"Indeed, my dear," says Ducky as he sticks the liver probe on the corpse. "There's no truer line in the whole Bible than that."

NCIS NCIS NCIS NCIS

After a long working day in NCIS, Ducky was sitting silently before his fireplace in his home when he hears a knock on the door. He frowns, but leaves his comfortable warm spot by the fire to check who could possibly at that time of night at his door.

He glances through the small window beside the door, and immediately recognizes the shivering figure outside his door. He opens the door immediately.

"Hello, my dear, please hurry inside, or the warm air will escape."

The female figure enters the warm house, and soon starts unpacking the several layers of clothing that cold winter night demanded one should wear. Finally a mocha colored face gazes softly at Ducky, as he puts her overcoat, coat, gloves, scarf and earmuffs on the coat rack, and turns to her, offering gallantly his arm for her.

"Would you like a cup of tea to warm up from this chill?"

"I would like it very much, Ducky," says Joy smiling as she puts her hand on the fold of his arm, and follows him into the warm living room.

He uses his late mother's china cups to serve delicious fragrant English tea, and soon both adults are silently sipping their teacups before a roaring fire.

"To what I owe the pleasure of your visit, my dear Joy?"

He glances lightly at the plastic envelop on her hand, on the standard size and color of a well known medical lab downtown.

"I would like to make a consultation," Joy says softly, gazing into the fire and sipping her tea, before glancing at Ducky, who leans forward on his love seat to pour more fragrant tea on his own teacup. He offers a refill to her, and she gladly accepts it.

"How can I help you?"

Joy turns to the roaring fire again, and takes a minute before she starts speaking again.

"As the attending doctor for the team, you are aware of my… health conditions."

Ducky nods silently, not willing to interrupt her.

"I've been doing check ups yearly to verify the current status of my endometriosis, since I underwent surgery a couple of years ago to remove a chocolate cyst that ruptured during a workday at the BAU office."

"Yes, I'm aware of that. You almost died with hemorrhagic shock, according to your medical file."

"Yes, and they also had to remove one of my ovaries, which was too damaged to be left inside of me."

"I see. What do you want me to do?"

Joy looks at Ducky, and offers the closed envelope of the laboratory to him.

"These are the results of my last yearly checkup. I would like you to take a look at them, and give me your sincere and candid opinion of my general health," she pronounces the sentences slowly; measuring each word as if they have the utmost importance to what she wants to say.

Ducky takes the envelope and lays it over his legs, which are bouncing a little in a nervous tick. He taps his fingers on top of it, considering his options.

"Why this sudden concern about your health?" he finally asks what's nagging his mind.

Joy takes another sip of her fragrant tea, and stares again at the fireplace.

"McGee and I sat down to talk … about the future. About choices." She sighs, staring into the clear water of her tea. "We both agree that we have very demanding jobs, but we're not willing to let that interfere with our … plans." She looks at Ducky, who is looking at her with kind eyes. "We both want kids one day. And we want to absolutely sure that … the natural way won't happen before we take the plunge of applying for adoption."

"It won't be easy," mutters Ducky.

"No, it won't. We both lead dangerous lives, with demanding jobs and we're totally workaholics. Not good adoptive parent material. One of us might have to abdicate their career to even be accepted into the waiting list. But we might tackle this matter differently."

"How?"

Joy smiles faintly at Ducky, who finally sees some animation on her face.

"You are aware that my family has successfully adopted older children into their folds. We… we don't need a baby. There are so many children in the foster system, just forgotten because they are too old, too this, too that. Too traumatized…" Joy stops for a moment, as her voice becomes just a whisper, "with too many scars to count… they are just there, waiting and praying for someone to choose them."

Joy runs a finger over the rim of the delicate china and whispers, "We want to create not only a home, but a shelter to these kids, so they may heal…" she looks at Ducky "the same way my parents healed me."

Ducky smiles at the young woman, "That's a very worthy cause." She chuckles, and he continues, "And I understand your yearning for a family on your own. And I admire your decision on adopting troubled children, if that's what both you and McGee agreed. However, I can't help it but feel sad about the great loss for the team and NCIS when one of you decide to forsake your career. Either one would be a terrible loss."

She nods and finishes her tea, putting the delicate china cup on the beautiful oak center table in Ducky's living room.

"It push comes to shove, I'll retire. McGee still has much to offer to the agency, and he still has a lot to learn and teach the younger generations of agents. I'm tired, Ducky, of waddling in filthy and psychotic minds. And Gideon always said that… it's time to leave the job … if you can't remember why you are doing it anymore."

Ducky leans towards her and stretches his hand, and Joy stretches her own, and smiles teary at the old Scot as he squeezes her hand gently before the roaring fire.

"I don't want to do like Gideon, who left only after everything and everyone he ever loved was butchered and destroyed by his job. And he left without saying goodbye to anyone because he couldn't face his pain mirrored in their faces. I don't want that to happen to me."

Ducky stays in silence for a moment, and Joy respects his need of introspection. Sometimes, even someone who is a master of words and witty knowledge has to stop and breathe deeply before his ideas are ready to be transformed into words. Finally Ducky nods, and looks at Buchanan.

"In the longest night of the year, in the darkest hour of the night, we are reminded that regardless of how helpless a situation might seem to be, the human soul, despite its weaknesses and apparent frailty, is a very resilient thing. It will climb the highest mountain, cross the widest seas, as long as it still has hope. Hope is a powerful stimulant, giving strength to weakened limbs, and a new breath of life to a dying soul. Don't ever give up hope, my dear Joy. Ever."

Joy stares at Ducky with tears in her eyes and nods, at the same time some escape leaving silver paths on her tanned skin, which reflect the orange light of the fire.

"I won't."

"Miracles might still happen."

"I know. It's just…"

"Just what?"

"In my line of work, you learn to believe in miracles. But you also learn not to depend on them."

* * *

a/n: Please check my next story on the Joy Buchanan series, in the crossover section with Criminal: **_The I in the FBI_**. Finally we will get a glimpse of why Joy has those scars on her back.

Reviews are always welcome.


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